An Aversion To Mediocrity
You have to take your own chopsticks, spoons etc. Restaurant patrons get to go down to where the watercress is grown for free, otherwise RM1 entrance fee is charged. Food are nice. My kids enjoyed them alot. Abit pricey. We ordered a set lunch for people. Portion was big. Total cost RM Highly overpriced, serve cheap materials, bad service! The most expensive dish is chicken, the rest are all vegetables or mushroom.
They served the dishes very fast, must be pre-cooked dishes. Some vege are over-cooked. They served the rice and dishes without telling us that we have to take the plates by ourselves until we asked the waitress. The waitress only point to us where to get the plate and rudely told us the instruction is on the wall.
I feel like cheated.
Not recommended at all!! Very unpleasant of experience visiting this place, the owner of restaurant treat you badly.
an aversion to mediocrity Manual
He even try to stop 4 years old kid to enter his toilet even we are agree to pay Rm1 for the entrance fees. This restaurant is situated in Tringkap, Tanah Rata. Right at the left corner so be careful if you are coming from downhill. If you are coming from Brinchang, it is easy to spot, it will be on your right. Interesting little water cress farm.
Amazing actually to see water cress being farmed in this large scale. The restaurant offers delicious steamboat and ala cartes. Drinks too contain water cress! Do try it! Own or manage this property? Claim your listing for free to respond to reviews, update your profile and much more. Tip: All of your saved places can be found here in My Trips. Log in to get trip updates and message other travelers. Profile Join.
Seeking Simplicity – How To Find Joy In The Mediocre
Log in Join. This restaurant seems to have an Improve this listing. Ranked 43 of 54 Restaurants in Brinchang. Cuisines: Chinese. Restaurant details. Reviewed December 21, This restaurant seems to have an aversion to meat.
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Date of visit: December Thank DaddyistheBest. Write a Review Reviews Traveler rating. See what travelers are saying:. In sum, love makes the entire person come alive--but only if it is pursued with sufficient openness and daring that it brings with it a constant danger of pain and loss. So far, so good. Nehring certainly raises an important issue--although it is not only with respect to love, and not only yesterday and today, that people have preferred to live in an excess of caution.
Most people in most times and places have been averse to risk, avoiding deep commitments of all sorts--to work, to justice, to a cause, to a country-- because they can see that through such commitments they would risk failure on a large scale. Most people enjoy contemplating the sufferings of tragic heroes, but they do not wish to be called upon for heroism themselves. Not caring deeply; looking at everything with irony, as a mere spectacle; and pursuing superficial pleasures: these are clever ways of evading or thwarting tragedy--in love, but also in every department of life.
It is a pervasive inclination of ordinary human life. But it is certainly possible that in America in our own era we are seeing a rising tide of risk aversion. If I compare my students today with my student contemporaries of the s and s, they certainly do seem to be more cautious and more calculating--about career choice, political engagement, and aspiration generally. They make prudent life plans, and they are unembarrassed by all their prudence.
Why the Bell Curve Matters
It would not surprise me if attitudes to romantic love have become similarly cautious and calculating, and perhaps also similarly ironic and detached. How could they not, if people are determined not to take large risks in any precinct of life? Nehring provides no systematic evidence for the claim that attitudes to love have changed. She ignores a huge stretch of popular culture when she says that we badly need some books that make passionate romance sexy for women. Can it be that she has never encountered romance novels? Does she not go to the movies?
Still, she is on solid ground when she contends that many people miss a lot in life, including a deeper understanding of self and other, because they are determined not to fail and not to suffer--because they hold the conviction that it is not better to have loved and lost. If you are a person globally averse to risk, then you will circumspectly avoid profound personal love, because its riskiness is obvious.
Abelard and Heloise, Antony and Cleopatra, Mary Wollstonecraft and William Godwin, Margaret Fuller and Count Giovanni Ossoli, Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir, Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera--they are all fun to read about, and they do remind us of the joyousness and the wisdom that can come from life lived on a grand scale, without crippling self-protectiveness. Nehring rarely mentions the fact that some of these examples are fictional and some real, but blurring that line does not cause confusion, because her strategy is to show the lasting appeal of these stories for women today, as models and possibilities.
Unfortunately --since there is a good idea here--Nehring does not have terribly good taste about what is sexy in literary love. She adores the large melodramatic gesture, but does not seem drawn to subtlety, playfulness, or finesse. Well, all right, the music is first-rate, but the view of love on offer is so adolescent that even Nietzsche--famous for his silly views about women and love--went for it. The simple man brought low by the wiles of a heartless seductress: this is a banal male fantasy, and it has very little to do with anything like love. For Nehring, only the crashingly obvious and way-over-the-top is sexy.
This is a considerable defect in a book that aims to re-invigorate romantic love. Her bad prose has an ethically unpleasant flavor, in its fascination with her own experience, her own pain, and her own ecstasy. This is surely not helpful if what one is pursuing is love, which is, after all, directed at another. Her central thesis is really two distinct arguments, one sensible and wise, the other adolescent and silly. The wise thesis is that one should be willing to incur risk for the sake of a deep and valuable love. This advice may not be for everyone, but for those who have the strength to live that way, such a life does, as she says with Plato, promise great rewards--even when, as often happens, the love turns out to involve reversal or some other type of suffering.
There is always death at the end of even the happiest love. In this sense, struggle does seem intrinsic to the valuable type of love. The second thesis, which Nehring regularly confuses with the first, is that the quality of a love can be measured by the amount of danger, distance, riskiness, suffering, and so on that it involves. The second thesis is not the same as the first. They were quite prepared to live happily, and they eagerly did so, until illness and death took their inevitable toll. Sartre and de Beauvoir, Wollstonecraft and Godwin, Antony and Cleopatra: none of these lovers courted suffering as a good in itself.
Nehring clearly loves the Werther model of love, but I would question whether this is a model of love at all, and not a type of acute self-preoccupation--narcissism masquerading as love. Unlike love as Nehring in her Platonic mood describes love , it yields no insight into any other person, because the gaze is resolutely on the vicissitudes of the self. Nehring asks women to take generous risks, rejecting self-concern and self-protectiveness, but in her fascination with the pain of the self she moves awfully close to the invincible self-involvement that she rightly criticizes. Real love may be able to surmount social inequality--but does it require or thrive on social inequality?
Nehring certainly does not show that lovers are more open to one another because of the suffering that they endure. Again, deep love may at times lead lovers to transgress restrictive social norms, but surely it does not follow that love is deeper and more real the more transgressive it is. And this confusion about transgression is nothing other than a staple of male mid-life crisis. Politicians seem particularly prone to this confusion, perhaps because that profession selects for a high degree of narcissism.
Nehring addresses her book to women. Bypassing such plausible causes as pervasive human anxiety, the desire to control the uncontrollable, the felt need to surmount mortality and the limits of the body, she pins the whole thing on--fanfare of operatic trumpets! Moreover, feminism urges us to see love in contractual terms, and that sort of calculation is incompatible with real passion. Let us admit that some feminists have mistrusted love altogether, and have urged women not to allow themselves to fall under its sway. One can always find such passages from some of the early radical feminists though Nehring is quite wrong to pin this view on Andrea Dworkin, who wanted to open a space for real passion by getting rid of the idea that the man is always entitled to use force to gain his ends.
And let us also admit that some feminists have at least suggested that correct sexual relations should not involve anything like abandon, or play with power relations--a view that Nehring appears to target, albeit unclearly.
But the dominant view in feminism, I think, has been that the context of the relationship as a whole is all-important: in a context of mutual respect, intimacy, and trust, there is nothing problematic about experimenting with passivity, abandon, and temporary power and powerlessness. Let us admit, too, that some feminists have wrongly criticized Mary Wollstonecraft for her passionate erotic life, in which she seems to them to be too susceptible, too lacking in pride.
To the extent that some feminists have said this, Nehring is right to point out that the energy of some of the best feminist work comes from a willingness to seek passion without self-protection. On the whole, though, the idea that women who are romantic and sexually passionate cannot be real thinkers has come more from males than from females, as Nehring herself notes. Men have had an irritating propensity to react to the presence of a sexually and romantically charged woman as if she were a source of trouble and confusion, and to feel that clear thinking can only take place if she is ushered out of the room.